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> Submit Poetry  riting
is a source of healing. When my family was falling apart, I often found comfort
in my journal. A poem could better express my feelings of confusion and betrayal
than a simple record of thoughts. Have you written any poetry or song lyrics about
your experiences? If so, here's a place to let others see your work, and maybe
even help in their healing.
Please email your submissions
to Jen.
Click on links below to read poem:
Black
On Black by James Erwin
Divorce I: The Eruption by
Jen Abbas
Divorce II: Definition of Agony
Divorce
III: Can An Eraser Really Erase?
Triptych by Lonnie Hull
DuPont
Black
on Black
It's black on black at midnight,
I've lived my
life in lies,
tears are flowing so freely
I can hardly close my eyes.
I said I didn't love you,
it was just another lie
and now you're
gone forever,
lonely nights, lonely nights.
You left this evening with
tear drops in your eyes
as evening shades of
darkness
starts across the country side.
I can see your tail lights
gleaming as you drove out of sight,
it's black on black at midnight,
another lonely night.
Yes, it's black on black at midnight,
I've lived my life in lies,
Tear
drops are flowing so freely,
I can hardly close my eyes.
Life is passing
by so quickly,
I've hardly had time to realize,
I said you didn't matter,
that was just another lie.
It's black on black at midnight
and now I'm on bended knees
with the chills
of loneliness
growing like a disease.
Perhaps one day you'll forgive
and come back to me,
for now all I have is evening
shades of darkness
and lonely memories.
Copyright by James Erwin
All rights reserved — Medford, Oregon  |
Divorce
I
the eruption
Divorce
is like a trembling earthquake
the world shakes
rumbling with rage
and all the anger
guilt
and
frustrations
that have been festering for so long
below the surface
suddenly spew upward
in an inferno of hate
widening the gaps
at times
the earth calms
and you think
the turmoil is over
settled
stable
then the cycle begins again
repeating
repeating
repeating.
you
are weary
you want to rest
and that is when you realize
the shaking
has stopped
but there is an eerie feeling
lurking in the air
you are
hesitant to believe
anything
anymore
but you are tired
after
struggling for so long
you rest
on one last sold patch of land
only
to watch it crumble in two
two
separate
distinct
parts
that
will never come together again
each new patch
supports part of you
and as you watch
they pull away.
—Jennifer Abbas
6/21/90 |
Divorce
II
Definition of Agony
Divorce
is a
shocking
aching
piercing
gnawing
burning
tormenting
torturing
awful
shameful
painful
hurtful
woeful
rueful
mournful
wrongful
sinful
hateful
grievous
piteous
calamitous
odious
ruinous
disastrous
dolorous
despicable
abominable
intolerable
insufferable
unbearable
lamentable
deplorable
terrible
thing.
—Jennifer
Abbas
6/22/90
|
Divorce
III
Can An Eraser Really Erase?
as I am surrounded
by
the many agonies of divorce
i think…
divorce
is like
a big eraser
blotting out
many years
many memories
many bonds
some that are
happy
some that are painful
the erase can never quite
make everything
go away
make the "mistake" disappear
the erase can never making everything
go away
because of the children
and the children think…
has my whole
life been
One Big Mistake
that my parents look back on
with regret
and shame
and bitterness?
do they think
that marriage is just some
game
and when the fun is over
they can put it away
out of sight
out of mind?
don't they know
the pain they cause?
don't they know
the guilt they place?
don't they know
the sorrow they plant?
don't
they know?
—Jennifer Abbas
6/23/90 |
Triptych
i.
Daddy in a black and white photo
wearing baggy slacks, jaw set,
glasses
thick. He feeds pigeons,
one hand in the pocket of his top coat.
The camera
catches him mid-reach,
the pigeons mid-air. He studies the birds
as if
from a great distance, feeding them
because that’s what people do
when
birds descend, all those wings a blur.
ii.
This one in color, bleached
out and false.
Four of us at the beach pose for the camera,
Daddy’s black
hair lifts in the wind, my sister
and I scowl at the sun. Three of us
look into the lens, but Mother’s pretty face
turns to her right, it seems
she cannot help herself.
Her hair is covered by what must have been
a vivid
red scarf. She stares out to sea as if
she were waiting for something to come.
iii.
A
very clear photo taken at a carnival.
I am three years old, I am wearing
sunglasses
too large for my head.
Daddy, strong and dark, carries me
past beautiful
things -- a merry-go-round alive
with neon, a silver ferris wheel filling
the sky.
I look somewhat safe or I look
like I feel somewhat safe or at
least
I look like it will do for now.
Copyright by Lonnie Hull DuPont
All rights reserved |
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